


Mercy

by mpb



Series: Queen in the North Collection [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/F, Gen, Multi, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-03
Updated: 2015-08-03
Packaged: 2018-04-12 20:22:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4493430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mpb/pseuds/mpb





	Mercy

When she rode through the gates of the Twins, with the great Stark banner waving above her head, the remaining Freys had cowered against the stone wall where the Craggonmen had them held with their spears pointing at their weasel-y throats.

 _Its the Tully bitch_ , they whispered with looks of pure horror upon their faces, _but we slit her throat to the bone..._

It was a growl from the great black dire wolf that had the man who spoke crying out and pushing himself closer to the stone in an effort to get away from Shaggy's snapping jaws.

She snapped her fingers and the beast returned to her side, prowling alongside her great black stallion and snarling at any who stepped too close.

She dismounted with the held of Lord Reed and strode through the dying Frey men, her head high and hands folded in front of her. The blood from the dead Freys was staining the hem of her dress, but she couldn't find it within her to care. She was close, she could feel it. There was a force pulling her and Shaggy towards the Great Hall, where her Craggonmen where holding Lord Walder.

"Heehee, the Stark bitch returns. I thought my boy had cut your throat from ear to ear, heehee" His voice was weak, a wheeze at best, she knew he would not live much longer and was thankful she had launched her offence now. At least now she might have the revenge she desired.

"My Lord Frey' her voice was sweet, there was a calculated look in her eye as she took a step forward, circling the old man like he was her prey 'you mock my family, my Lord. Even now, when I have your heirs held at spearpoint and you at mine own mercy."

Shaggy took a step forward, a growl echoed throughout the hall and she saw the brief glimpse of fear in Walder's eyes. She smirked.

"You seem frightened, my Lord. But what, I ask, frightens you so? Surely it is not me? A lowly maid?" Her eyes glimmered with the thrill of the hunt. "Or is it your Queen's mercy that you fear?"

Shaggy leaped from behind his chair then, over Lord Walder's head and the old man screamed as the wolf turned and snapped his jaws so close to his face that the long thin whiskers that decorated his chin were sheered. 

"Y-you are no Queen of mine" 

Her eyes flashed and her hand grazed the old man's shoulder.

"But, my Lord, I am. I am Sansa of House Stark. The last remaining Stark of Winterfell and the heir to my brother King Robb. I am the Queen in the North, the Queen who took back the North, the Queen who brought the Twins to ruin. I will burn your keep to the ground, my Lord, and I will do it before your eyes and after I will see that every man, woman, and child who calls themselves a Frey will be met with the Queen's justice. Then, my Lord, once you have born witness to the desecration of your house I will deal you the Queen's justice and you shall no the wrath of the Old Gods." 

With a flourish she turned and called for Lord Reed to search the dungeons for the imprisioned Northmen as she swept from the room. 

* * *

The men rejoice when they are freed from the rat infested dungeons and met with maesters and healers and the red hair of the eldest Stark girl. _Ned's girl_ , they whisper to one another as the maesters tend to their festering wounds, burns that will never heal and lashings that will leave horrific scars, _Ned's girl came for us_.

And Ned's girl gives them the smile that her father gave his lords. The kind, endearing smile and the ice beneath her eyes that tells them she is a Stark, for all her Tully looks. The dire wolf that stands by her side is just another reminder of her Northern blood.

 _The prince's wolf,_ one of the Craggonmen mummers to Lord Umber as he helps him to a bed, _the youngest of Ned's boys who met his end somewhere between the ruins of Winterfell and the walls of Last Hearth. She never found his body, but they say that the wildling woman who was with him buried him beneath the Weirwoods and that if you look carefully in the eyes of Shaggy (for Her Grace could never change the name her beloved little brother had bestowed upon the beast) they changed from the fearsome yellow known of the beast, to the Tully blue that matched the Queen's eyes._

Lord Umber had nearly cried then, for he knew he had seen his King's wolf's eyes do the same thing, and he can't help but think on if the boy is trying to protect the mother he was too young to remember. 

* * *

The Old Gods bless them with sunny skies the day that the Queen decided to hand down the sentences. Lord Walder is seated to her left, so he can watch the fall of House Frey as she promised. One by one Freys were brought before her, and though they don't have a Weirwood so she can let her enemy's blood spill onto the roots, she can't help but think that the blood of Freys is not good enough to nourish her Gods.

She started with the youngest, had given them quick deaths with the use of a poison as they broke their fasts. One by one the children fell asleep as they knelt before her and she wondered if her father could see her now what would he think of his royal daughter?

The women are harder, for she knows she cannot be lenient with adults but at the same time the women hold no power in the Frey household.

 _Ice,_ she reminds herself as they are brought before her and pushed to their knees before her, one by one _, I am Ice. I am the North and the North does not forgive._

The men are brought forward and that is easier. _They betrayed Robb_ , she thinks as she commands Shaggy to rip out their entrails and leave them to die slowly, _they killed Mother._

Finally, it is Lord Walder's turn. Though he showed no sign of sadness as each of his heirs was killed before his eyes, he weeps and pisses himself how as he is dragged roughly from his seat and thrown before the Queen. 

"Did I not deliver, Lord Walder? You once faulted my brother for backing out of a bargain you struck... can you find any fault with mine own bargain?"

He whimpers and eyes Shaggy as he growls and stalks closer to the old man.

"The North Remembers, Lord Walder. Though, none shall remember House Frey." 

Shaggy howled then, and the Twins went up in a fearsome blaze that burned hotter than the sun. Lord Walder weeped as the Queen gave the order for Shaggy to tear him limb from limp.

It was not a slow death, but the Queen named it mercy all the same.

* * *

When the Northern host makes camp outside the walls of a Winterfell still held by the Boltons, the Queen cannot fathom why she did not listen more closely when her sister ranted about all of the secret passageways she managed to find while hiding from the Septa.

She thinks it must be a sign from the Old Gods when Lord Umber stumbles into her tent without so much as a knock to tell her that the ghost of Lyanna has ridden into camp. 

The men whisper of how the Stark boys set the old Kings of Winter free from their tombs before they ran from Winterfell, how they threw the swords that lay across the laps of each statue to the floor of the crypts and called upon their ancestors to avenge the Starks. They whisper of how the Boltons lay waste to the crypts after arriving and made the mistake of disturbing the tomb of Lady Lyanna, who has since been wreaking havoc upon the unwelcome inhabitants.

 _She has come to aid us_ , they mummer as the dark haired beauty leads her horse by them, _Lady Lyanna has risen._

But the Queen falls to her knees in the snow and pulls the woman close, burying her face in her stomach as she weeps.

"Arya" is the word that bring the Queen crashing into the snow drifts.

* * *

The men are nothing if not impressed with their Princess. She trains with the men and bests them each time. She is quick and sure and fights with none of the fearsome rage that her fellow Northman fight with. Death is a dance to their Princess, a dance that she knows she will win. 

The Queen is rarely without her sister and the Princess is impressed with her sister's showing at the Twins. 

 _Father would be proud_ , she whispers one night as they curl into one another's arms, _You have done so well, Sister_.

The Queen can't help but wonder if her father really would be proud. For sure, those who are loyal to her call her the Queen of Wolves, but those she fights against says that she is the Tywin Lannister of the North. 

* * *

Arya leads the men through the tunnels she found as a child while the Queen distracts the Boltons by parading herself in front of the gates. 

"Lady Sansa" Roose Bolton is calling to her from the battlements and he must be stupid if he thinks the walls of Winterfell will protect him from a Stark.

"My Lord of Bolton" The Queen calls back, inclining her head slightly so he can see the sharp points of her bronze crown. "It seems you are occupying my home, I would have you and your men file out now. We can spare the blood shed"

He has the audacity to laugh at her then and the Queen feels her shoulders set and her back straighten and suddenly she is the North made flesh.

"Roose, do you think the Northern lords will stand by you now that their rightful Queen has returned home? Do you think the walls of Winterfell will protect you from their master? Do you think the ghosts that haunt the halls will not smite you where you stand? End this now and I shall be merciful to you and your... Frey bride."

Her grin is wolfish and she wonders if he knows of the mercy she intends to give them. The mercy that she gave Lord Walder and his heirs, the mercy that the bastard boy gave her father.

"Lady Sansa, you must know that I have been named Warden of the North. You hold no power in these lands any longer"

The wind howls then and hundreds of wolves howl with it. They emerge from the trees and from behind snow drifts and she sees Roose's eyes widen as she feels them move through the courtyard of Winterfell, surrounding the Bolton host and allowing her men and Arya to battle their way to the gatehouses and open them wide for her.

It is some hours later, after the flayed men attempt to fight their way past a pack of angry wolves and her men have secured Roose Bolton and his son that she strides through the courtyard, the hem of his white gown becoming saturated with blood.

Her smile is feral and she wonders if the look of fear in Arya's eyes is fear of her or fear of being in this place again.

"Lord Bolton and the bastard of Bolton, such a pleasure. I am glad you have begun repairs on my home, truly, you honour me"

The bastard spat in the direction of her feet then and Arya placed a swift kick in his mouth, knocking out 2 teeth. The Queen chuckled and the spectacle.

"My dear boy, you must mistake me for a foolish girl if you think I will recoil from the likes of you. I am a Stark, and you are nothing but the bastard boy of the Leach Lord."

He writhes in his chains then, attempting to get to her.

"Ah, feisty when I mention your roots? Or is it your heritage that you pride yourself on?" Her gaze turns to the flayed bodies that decorate the courtyard "I can only assume it is the later. Now, I know that I did not have a Godswood at the Twins to pay homage to my Gods, but here, this is where the Gods live... is it not, Lord Bolton? Have you had a chance to take in the splendour of the Godswood during your time in my home? You simply must, the Old Gods are very... present there. Lord Umber, please see my guests to the Godswood. Beneath the Heart Tree will suffice."

She lets Lord Umber lead her prisoners to the Godswood as she fingers a flaying knife left behind before pocketing it.

"What will you do, sister?" Arya's voice is quiet.

The Queen smiles at her, and gently cups her face.

"I will grant them mercy."

Mercy came in the form of screams of pain as she personally flayed the skin from their chests, manhoods, and arms ( _Is this the arm you used to drive your sword through my brother's chest, Lord Bolton?_ ) before having Arya slit their throats onto the roots of the Weirwood. 

"I want their hoisted above the gates, facing South. Any Southern lordling who would come to challenge me shall know what is means to receive mercy from Sansa Stark." 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
